


i'm calling it love soon

by somerdaye



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somerdaye/pseuds/somerdaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>something about zayn fascinates liam. high school au; genderfuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm calling it love soon

**Author's Note:**

> beta’d by my lovely laurencake. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARCEL! (it’s my birthday, too, but shhh, let’s focus on her.) I know you’ve read half of this already, but I’m pretty damned proud of it, so I hope you enjoy it anyway, yeah? <3  
> also: liam, zayn, and louis are girls; niall and harry aren’t. just so nobody is confused.

the first time liam sees zayn, she’s in the back of the classroom with a hood hiding most of her face — the teacher calls her out on it, makes her pull it down — which is the whole reason liam looks behind her in the first place. she doesn’t expect the girl to be so astonishingly pretty. she’s heard the rumours, after all, and counts three piercings and two tattoos that she can see. it’s not like liam is a cookie cutter good girl or anything, but she knows of zayn malik as ’the girl who got kicked out of the only other school in town’, so she hadn’t expected the full lips and sharp bone structure.

she isn’t able to keep her eyes off zayn for the rest of history. something about her is fascinating; the way she slips her shoe off and on several times for no discernible reason, the blue ink staining her fingers, how she never looks directly at anything but her notebook for longer than a split second, the shape of her canines when she smiles at something in said notebook.

liam would much rather study zayn malik than history, but she sees niall asleep at his desk and louis not very discreetly playing pokemon under her own, so the task of taking down the review questions for the upcoming test falls to her.

after ten unsuccessful minutes of waiting for zayn to glance up at her, liam sighs and looks back at the whiteboard.

—

the only parties liam ever goes to are harry’s, and that’s half because she’s known harry since before he could talk and half because harry’s parties, while undeniably fun, never get so wild that she’s left hiding behind niall in a corner while louis dances on yet another table.

louis doesn’t dance on harry’s table, but that’s mostly because she and liam will walk in and within seconds, whoosh, louis is gone, whisked away to the bedroom while harry calls out a greeting over his shoulder. sometimes liam wonders if harry’s parties are just an elaborate set-up to have sex with louis without worrying if his parents will come home at the wrong time. anne is ridiculously easy-going about anything teenager-y, so unlike liam’s parents that it’s hard to believe they’re friends.

the routine plays out without a flaw the next saturday — liam has harry’s parties memorised by now.

walk in and immediately lose louis to harry’s hand around her wrist, check; niall in the corner picking music and drinking from an unlabelled bottle, check; stan trying unsuccessfully to chat gemma up for the gazillionth time since preschool, check. soon enough the living room and kitchen will be filled with people from school and gemma’s work, the same crowd every time, and liam won’t drink anything, will end up having to drag niall home.

she doesn’t expect to see zayn malik sitting on the sofa, laughing with niall about something or other. liam stops in the entry of the front room, wondering when exactly harry had met zayn. in hindsight, she shouldn’t be so surprised. harry knows _everyone_ , especially the outcasts. one look at her ill-fitting ramones tee and converse and he was probably offering a smoke and charming his way into her life. he doesn’t even smoke, the twat, he just carries around a pack at all times in case someone around him wants to bum one.

“hey, li,” niall says, offering a beer they both know she won’t touch. it’s a courtesy, now, to stop idiot blokes from attempting to ply her with bottles throughout the night. “you met zayn?”

“nope,” says liam. she smiles awkwardly at zayn, who is gazing at her like she can see straight through liam, and takes the beer. in thanks, she pats niall’s head.

after a beat, zayn says, “well, i’m zayn. hi. nice to meet you. et cetera.”

“liam.” the blush comes before liam can hold it back. she never uses her full name anymore, too embarrassed by the typically male one she was given. it’s how she and louis connected, though; two girls just trying to make it in the scary year four world with boy names. harry’d called them ’li’ and ’lou’, and it stuck.

zayn doesn’t do anything but smile. “cool,” she says, and liam hides behind her fringe until she’s certain they’ve moved on to another topic.

—

the essential formula of the party is the same as every other party harry’s ever thrown — except that as the years went by, lemonade got switched to alcohol and cake got taken out entirely for some godawful reason — but the mere fact that zayn is _there_ is screwing with liam’s head.

it’s throwing her off kilter, this new girl swooping in and owning a space that liam has felt comfortable in for practically her entire life. the worst of it is that she’s alone: harry and louis have emerged half-naked from his room exactly once each, at separate times, for food and alcohol, and niall is swimming with stan and josh and some other bloke-y blokes liam never bothered to learn the names of. even gemma has disappeared somewhere, and so liam is stuck leaning against a counter in the kitchen and trying not to make eye contact with zayn.

who has, inexplicably, turned into the life of the party.

maybe it’s the alcohol or whatever, but in class zayn is always so withdrawn and snarky that seeing her grin and dance and lean into peoples’ personal space is so weird. it’s like she’s channelled louis’ energy somehow. which is too bad, because louis probably requires that energy right about now.

at some point she loses track of zayn entirely, which she tries not to think of as such a terrible thing. she doesn’t even _know_ zayn, does she? it’s just some idiotic crush on a hot girl, not the first time liam’s mooned over someone.

eventually, liam decides she’s had enough. none of her friends are returning, and she doesn’t see anyone else at the party she likes enough to have a conversation with. it takes seeing danielle, of all people, snogging a girl in the middle of the room and hearing the catcalls and whistles, making liam wonder why danielle could never just own up to the fact that she likes pussy, too, it isn’t just when she’s drunk and trying to make boys cheer, for liam to give up on the party altogether.

she texts niall and harry that she’s taking off, just so none of them worry in a couple hours when she’s nowhere to be found, and heads out. on her way, she shoves her unopened beer at a boy in her spanish class.

it’s better once she’s outside, because there are only a couple of people hanging by the door with cigarettes between their fingers or lips, and they’ve never bothered liam before. they don’t really _do_ much at parties, and she doesn’t think she’s ever seen any of them intentionally have fun. those are the sorts harry gravitates towards; louis has enough fun for all of them, honestly.

“liam, hey,” someone says, and if liam knew zayn’s voice well enough to recognise it, she wouldn’t have turned. except she doesn’t, so she spins and finds herself inches away from zayn’s stylish quiff and tobacco breath.

“oh,” liam says, “hi, zayn.”

“are you leaving already?” zayn asks, crushing the butt of her smoke with her shoe as she does.

liam shrugs. she can feel her skin crawling and wishes she could take a step back without hurting zayn’s feelings. (she still remembers, vividly, the way niall and louis had spent months thinking the other disliked them due to an awkward introduction where neither got into each other’s space properly.) or zayn could move away, she supposes, but that doesn’t seem likely. zayn is leaning into her, sliding two fingers through liam’s belt loop, and if liam hadn’t just watched her do the same with every other person inside, she would think zayn was coming on to her.

“don’t tell hazza i said so, but it’s a bit shit tonight.”

“yeah,” zayn says, then laughs, and liam is a bit dazed by it. “i’ve gotta say, i’m a little underwhelmed. i was told this was a good party place.”

“the party’s in much better swing when lou is clothed,” says liam.

absentmindedly stroking her thumb along the sliver of skin above liam’s jeans and making liam wish she could run and hide, zayn asks who lou is. liam doesn’t have to give more than a two-word answer but she does anyway, tells zayn about how she and louis bonded over getting the mickey taken out of their names, how harry fell in love with her on the spot and tried to win her over from year four on, how louis gave in when his voice dropped. none of this is pertinent to the question, no, but zayn looks so genuinely interested that liam just keeps babbling anecdotes and trying to ignore the feeling of zayn’s hand, curving over liam’s hip now, fingertips slipping just under her waistband.

when she finally shuts up, zayn is just _looking_ at her, a bemused little smile on her lips.

“sorry,” liam says, cheeks burning.

“no, no, it’s quite all right.” when zayn talks, there’s the weirdest flash of silver, and liam has just now worked out that it’s probably a tongue ring. god. she has to consciously restrain herself from imagining how that would feel — she already feels like crawling into a hole and making a home there, thanks. “you’re funny. i like you.”

“i — okay,” says liam.

zayn smiles wider, now. “what, you’re not reciprocating? i’m _hurt_ , miss liam.”

“well, i don’t even know you really. i mean i just told you my life story without provocation and i’m sorry about that, but i’d say at the moment you definitely have an upper hand on the backstory front.”

“give me something to talk about, then,” zayn says.

which — okay, wasn’t really what liam was expecting her to say. she considers what she could ask about; the expulsion, the fags, how she’d met harry. if she got desperate she could even ask about zayn’s family. except that’s starting to sound like a good idea, because liam wants to know so _much_ about this girl that it’s a little scary. she’s not sure how long she stands there, weighing her options, but zayn’s eyes don’t once flicker away from liam’s, and that’s — that’s a little scary in its own way, too.

“what’s in the notebook?” she eventually decides on. “the one you’re always — well, you know it better than i do.”

zayn looks a bit surprised.

"i didn’t realize anyone’d noticed it," she says.

"well, i notice things," liam says. _about you, mostly._ "don’t worry, i think you’re in the clear — mr varner doesn’t notice anything but the sound of his own voice. he’s only told lou off twice in the past three months and believe me, she deserves a lot more."

“your lou,” says zayn, and that’s new, louis has never been liam’s before, “she’s not the one in history with us?”

“she is indeed.” liam sighs.

okay, it isn’t her imagination — zayn has moved, like, a lot closer. there’s this citrusy smell underneath the tobacco and sweat, and liam wants to lean even closer, figure out if it’s some kind of body spray or zayn’s hairspray or whatever. it’s not like this is the first crush liam has ever had or anything, but it _feels_ like it is. zayn’s fingers have started tracing shapes into her hip, her breath ghosting against liam’s neck, and liam feels hot all over, like she’s fourteen again and just realising that girls do a hell of a lot more for her than blokes.

“i draw,” zayn whispers right into liam’s ear, like it’s some big secret, and liam struggles to remember what they’d been talking about. “not very well, but.”

great, she _draws_ , too. liam supposes she ought to count herself lucky that it isn’t poetry or some shit. then she’d be really screwed.

“what do you draw?”

“cartoons, mostly.” zayn laughs, and her lips brush against liam’s jaw in a way that seems purposeful, but what does liam know? party hookup etiquette is niall’s forté — possibly louis’, as well, but seeing as she’s never so much as snogged anyone not currently named harry styles, liam doubts it. “mr varner as a supervillian, stuff like that.”

liam smiles. she brings a hand up to squeeze zayn’s upper arm and says, “that’s really cool, though.”

as if liam’s touch is a wake-up call, zayn pulls away, grinning reassuringly at liam when her hand drops in confusion. for the first time, she looks somewhere to her right, biting her lip just a bit.

“i should get back inside,” she says.

“oh, yeah, of course,” liam says, “yes, you do that. i’ll just be — going home, then.”

she turns to leave, and zayn places a light hand on her shoulder to pause her for a moment. “you can,” she says, then clears her throat. “i mean, if you ever want to see my crappy drawings, harry knows where i am at lunch.” then, she’s gone.

—

harry does indeed know where zayn is at lunch, but he’s not giving up that information easily.

“why on earth do _you_ want to talk to zayn malik?” he asks, staring at her across their usual lunch table. louis and niall are buying food, but liam and harry have always unabashedly brown-bagged it. liam throws a grape, gratified when it hits him square in the forehead. he doesn’t bother glaring, just keeps staring at her like he’s never seen her before.

“why is that so shocking?” liam huffs. “i have friends that aren’t you and lou and niall.”

“no, you don’t,” harry says. it would sound a lot meaner if it wasn’t the complete truth, really. “and you certainly don’t have friends like _zayn malik_.”

“maybe i want to start, you cock. just tell me where she is, won’t you?”

“what’s this about harry’s cock?” louis asks, sliding in next to harry. niall sits next to liam, looking passively amused. at this point liam wonders if that’s just his default expression. she throws a grape at louis, too, for good measure, but louis is far too used to people throwing edible things at her, and catches it in her mouth.

when harry doesn’t even high-five her for it, liam knows that she’s really weirding him out. which is dumb — liam’s asked about other people before, hasn’t she? she’s sure she has.

“i wasn’t talking about harry’s cock,” liam says, exasperated.

“that’s a shame,” says louis.

niall laughs, and liam tries very hard not to drop her head on the table and wish for new friends.

“liam was asking me where zayn malik hangs out at lunch,” harry says to the other two, like this is the most shocking thing he’s ever heard. “she wants to _talk_ to zayn.”

“what? why?” louis stares.

“because i _want_ to, mum and dad, can i pretty please go talk to her now?”

“zayn fancies her,” niall says around a mouthful of burger, and liam chokes on air.

“she doesn’t,” liam says, but harry and louis’ exclamations drown it out easily. she’ll never be the loudest of the group, even if she wanted to be.

that’s — it’s ridiculous. zayn doesn’t _fancy_ her. where is niall getting his information? before she can demand to know, harry’s face splits into a wide, terrifying grin. that usually means someone’s about to get hurt — or laid. either way, it’s worrying.

“she’s in the back hall behind the library,” he says, pointing somewhere over his shoulder. “have fun _talking_ , li.”

“i — all right,” liam says, grabbing her lunch and pausing when she’s half-stood. “niall, what —”

“ _go_.” there’s a gleam in harry’s eyes that promises trouble if she doesn’t, so liam abides, ignoring louis’ too-loud call of ’get in there, babe!’ as she leaves the canteen.

it isn’t a far walk to the library, but it’s long enough for liam to be left alone with her thoughts that she starts to panic, almost, running what niall said into the metaphorical ground of her mind. what does he mean, zayn _fancies_ her? that doesn’t sound right at all. sure, yeah, there was the touching and the giggling and whatnot at harry’s party, but it’s not like liam was the only one zayn was treating that way — not by a long shot. she’s still fretting about it when she almost trips over someone’s legs.

“liam,” the person says happily. nobody calls her liam. she looks down and is nearly bowled over by the force of zayn’s smile.

“oh, er, hello,” liam says.

“sit down,” zayn offers, gesturing at the space of floor next to her. liam does so before she can think about _this_ too much, too. “i wasn’t sure you were coming today.”

“harry gave me the third degree before he let me come,” liam explains. she leans slightly, so the side of her arm is pressed against zayn’s.

zayn smiles at her, and liam wonders, again, if niall’s intel is legit.

“that’s not very nice of him.”

shrugging, liam says, “he doesn’t get why someone like you would want to hang out with me.”

“that’s — even less nice,” zayn frowns, and liam hastens to defend harry.

“well, it’s like, you’re really cool and everything, and i’m very — not. he’s not being, you know, not-nice, it’s just that he’s known me an embarrassingly long time and he knows what a dork i am, so.”

the look on zayn’s face, like she’s trying to figure liam out, makes colour rise in liam’s cheeks. why can’t she ever just _shut up_ around zayn? her stupidly long eyelashes and perfect cheekbones make it hard for liam to concentrate on much of anything.

“he doesn’t know me very well yet, obviously,” zayn says, looking down at the open notebook on her lap. “’cos i’m sort of a very big dork as well.”

“that’s good,” liam says. “i like dorks.”

zayn grins, wide and unexpected. “good, then.”

swallowing back a whole lot of anxiety, liam leans closer and peers at the pages of the notebook, trying to decipher the scrawls into actual pictures.

“what’s this?” she asks, pointing at a particularly intricate doodle. zayn laughs before launching into an explanation.

—

really, liam should’ve known it’d be too much to ask, a second lunch period alone with zayn. when she gets to the table in the interest in letting harry know she won’t be eating with them again, she stops in her tracks. louis and harry have zayn sandwiched between them, talking her ear off. at least, louis is.

niall comes up beside liam, tray in hand.

“this should be fun,” he says. she can never be sure if he’s being sarcastic.

“does she really fancy me?” liam asks.

“she was asking after you a lot at the party,” says niall. “i’ve spent enough time around you to know that’s shy girl for crushing.” he pauses, then nudges liam with his elbow. “do you fancy her?”

“christ, yes.”

“let’s us rescue her from the idiots, then,” niall says, starting off to the table.

briefly, liam considers running away, but it wouldn’t be exactly fair to leave zayn alone with her friends. nobody deserves louis being unleashed on them for an hour. she sighs, says a quick prayer to any deity willing to listen, and goes to sit across from zayn.

“hey, guys,” liam says. zayn looks at her with the most relieved expression liam has ever seen.

“liam,” she says, and before she can finish the sentence, louis is cracking up.

“oh my god,” louis says. “you call her liam.”

zayn nods, looking to niall like maybe he’ll save her. niall just shrugs, like, _can’t help you there, mate_ — liam’s been in zayn’s position enough to know it by heart. “well, yes, that’s — that’s her name.”

“it’s a dude’s name,” harry says, like they’re all not perfectly aware of that.

“shut up, hazza,” liam says. “or i’ll start telling baby harry stories, so help me god.”

he holds his hands up in a placating gesture, then mimes twisting a key in his lips and throwing it away. liam fights against the smile threatening to split her mouth — just because harry is stupidly charming doesn’t mean she needs to give him any more proof that he could probably get away with murder.

“do you mind that i call you liam?” zayn asks, ignoring harry completely.

“no, i,” liam says. “i kind of like it, actually.”

zayn smiles. “good. i won’t stop.”

“i didn’t know you like being called liam,” louis says, narrowing her eyes. “shall i start as well, then?”

“no,” says liam, throwing a piece of her crust at louis. who, once again, manages to get it in her mouth. liam pretends not to see the subtle thumbs up niall directs at harry. “ _you_ aren’t allowed.”

“that’s not _fair_ ,” louis whines just as zayn says, “just me, then?”

“just you,” liam says, cheeks burning. zayn just smiles wider, and liam acts like her friends aren’t all making incredibly obvious hand gestures.

“so zayn.” louis turns on her, expression serious as the plague. “talk to me about music.”

—

there aren’t many things liam hates. like, really, honestly _hates_. if she had to narrow it down from just things that annoy her greatly, there would be four. firstly, when people are rude to her friends. they’re not perfect, she knows (the second thing on the list is the way louis feels the need to tell her detailed descriptions of her sex life), but she’s kind of fiercely protective and wishes she were brave enough to speak up against the things she sometimes hears in the halls. third on the list is the feeling she gets when she procrastinates, that sinking feeling in her stomach that she _knows_ is her own fault — and then there’s fantasising.

see, fantasising in itself isn’t a bad thing. at all. in fact, liam rather thinks it’s one of the best things in the world.

the problem is, once liam gets to crushing on someone, fantasising about karen gillan or leona lewis just doesn’t _work_ anymore, and she gets guilty when she fantasises about someone she isn’t dating — it just, it feels really strange — so fantasising is the fourth thing that liam _hates_.

because she’s horny. simple as that.

she twists uncomfortably. she’s been lying down for hours and still hasn’t fallen asleep, because all she can think about is zayn. and she refuses to think about zayn while she touches herself, that’s just, it’s _weird_ , all right, because zayn doesn’t know, and it feels like she’s going behind zayn’s back or something ridiculous like that. louis tells her, often, that she’s insane, but liam can’t help it.

a few times, she reaches down, presses her fingers against her clit through her knickers, and tries to think of someone, _anyone_ , but zayn. it doesn’t work, and she ends up sighing and punching her pillow into a more comfortable shape, trying her best to ignore her dumb teenage libido.

—

it’s at least a week after that, and liam is focusing so hard on her english assignment that she misses the doorbell entirely. when she has the delayed realisation that it had indeed gone off and maybe she should answer it, she can already hear her sister talking animatedly to whoever it is and mentally shrugs, going back to chewing on her pen and wondering if it’s too late to invest in a dictionary.

her bedroom door opens, and she’s about to snap at ruth for interrupting _again_ , except it isn’t her sister peering into her room.

“hi,” zayn says, smiling tentatively. “can i come in?”

liam blinks. “i — yeah, course you can.”

“thanks.” zayn closes the door behind her and leans against it for a moment, like she isn’t sure what to do next. as liam is occupying the only chair in the room, she does the polite thing and gestures to her bed. another smile, then zayn is sitting, and liam tries not to find this bizarre.

“not that i mind,” she prefaces, “but how do you know where i live?”

“niall told me,” zayn says. liam makes a mental note to punch niall in the gut next time she sees him.

“and the follow up question —”

“why am i here?”

she nods, fiddling with her pen to avoid looking directly at zayn. it’s not like it’s a bad thing, having zayn in her room, except that it makes her anxious like she hasn’t been since danielle. she hears zayn moving around, getting comfortable, and she makes the mistake of glancing up. zayn has sprawled herself out on liam’s bed, on her stomach, and liam can really, _really_ see down her shirt at this angle.

crushes, in general, suck, that’s just a fact. however, liam is strictly in the camp that same-sex crushes are a lot worse — not that she would really know for sure, but still — because as far as she knows, you’re meant to think everyone is straight until proven otherwise. which is — it’s _dumb_ , is what it is, but it also feeds a nagging voice at the back of liam’s mind reminding her that she doesn’t _know_ if zayn likes girls, or likes boys, or likes anyone for that matter, and liam kind of wishes people would start wearing name-tags around with their sexualities written on them. it would make fancying people a hell of a lot easier.

“i guess ’in the neighbourhood isn’t going to work, is it?” zayn asks. she sighs just a little, but there’s a smile on her face that gives her away. “there’s not really a reason, liam, i just wanted to see you.”

“why?” liam asks, taken aback.

zayn gives her this look like she’s being deliberately obtuse. she’s kicking her feet in the air, legs swinging, and she looks so comfortable on liam’s bed that liam has to look away.

“because i like you, you dingbat,” says zayn. “did i not say as much when we first met?”

“well — yes, you did, but you were —”

“i wasn’t drunk,” zayn interrupts. she’s suddenly very interested in liam’s bedcovers. “i was having a good time, sure, but. not drunk enough to forget the story you told me about how in year nine harry wrote a sonnet about louis’ bum and read it to your whole class. and certainly not drunk enough to forget you, yeah, so just — just take the compliment, liam.”

compliments have never been liam’s strong suit, but arguing seems pointless, so she latches on to the harry story and expands on it, telling zayn all about the way his voice cracked and how niall had been new and very confused.

“that’s how i met niall, actually,” liam says, grinning in spite of herself. “he came up to me all bleached hair and irish-ness and asked if things were always this strange.”

“are they?” zayn’s got her arms crossed and her chin pillowed on them, following along with the story as if it was the most entertaining thing she’d ever heard.

liam snorts. “when you hang around harry and louis, yes, things are always this strange.”

“and you?” zayn asks. “are you strange?”

the first answer that comes to mind is ‘no’, and then, ‘hell no’. liam’s never sneaked into clubs using charm and boobs, never tried to make nachos with nothing but crisps and olives, never faked making out with someone she could actually be making out with, and in general has never been quite as strange as harry and louis are. she thinks that’s probably the whole reason niall decided to befriend them — liam was just, whatever, part of the package.

after a bit of contemplation, though, liam decides on, “yeah, i guess i am. everyone’s a bit strange, aren’t they?”

zayn nods as best she can. “it’d be _really_ strange if they weren’t.”

feeling a little restless, liam stands up and walks around her room. there’s no particular reason for it, and she doesn’t try to pretend there is, just wanders aimlessly, picking up books and moving laundry into the hamper.

“is this your phone?” zayn’s voice calls. liam spins and, yes, zayn is sitting up and waving her mobile. she nods, and zayn smiles, immediately pressing buttons. liam moves closer automatically, anxious for the safety of her mobile. after a moment, zayn shows her the screen, an unfamiliar number saved under ‘zayn malik’.

“i — okay,” liam says. she’s not sure what else _to_ say. there are less than thirty contacts in her mobile, and most of them are family.

“if you mind too much you can delete it once i leave,” zayn says with a shrug. “just humour me.”

“i wouldn’t delete it,” liam frowns.

the shadow of a smile tugs at the corners of zayn’s mouth. “well, good.”

“i find it strange,” liam blurts, “that you’re hanging out with me and my friends. i’m not, like, complaining, but. i don’t know why anyone would choose to spend time with harry.”

zayn laughs. “you do.”

“didn’t have much of a choice,” liam says.

it’s true, but liam still feels bad saying it. harry has sort of been there for her throughout her whole life. she may joke, sure, but she can’t actually imagine any sort of life without him. her third birthday wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting without him getting frustrated during the apple-bobbing and stripping off his clothes to jump in and start pelting grown-ups with them, for instance, and secondary school would’ve been total hell.

“you’re scolding yourself for being mean, aren’t you?” zayn asks, and liam laughs, sitting on the very edge of her bed so she can still run if need be.

“a bit, yeah.”

zayn scoots over so there’s room for liam to sprawl out next to her, and even though it’s liam’s own bed she feels a bit panicked relaxing like that around zayn. unfortunately, she also knows better than to be rude to a guest, and she moves closer, tucking her legs in under her.

“you’re getting good at reading my mind,” liam says, fighting to keep her voice casual. zayn has her legs spread carelessly, leaning back on her elbows, and if liam weren’t timid and zayn wasn’t mostly a stranger, it would look a lot like an invitation. as it is, it’s just sort of driving her crazy.

“it’s not very hard,” zayn says with a shrug. “you’re not exactly a pro at masking your emotions, babe.”

babe. okay.

“good to know.” liam looks down at her hands, fidgeting a little. “so, like, how long are you planning on staying? not that i don’t like spending time with you, i just — i have this english thing that’s kicking my ass, and —”

“i’m good at english,” zayn says. “i could help, if you — you know, wanted me to.”

on one hand, liam just kind of wants to send zayn home so she can curl up in a ball and cuss about fancying people, but she really does need to get the assignment done, and if she can get it done faster _without_ paying harry to do it for her, well. she picks money over mortification and says, “thanks, that’d be lovely!”

zayn smiles and starts asking her all these questions, squinting at liam’s rough notes and bemoaning her lack of glasses, and she’s just so _good_ at this that when she tells liam in a quiet voice that she wants to do this when she grows up, teaching kids english, it’s logical. liam says she thinks zayn will be great at it, which is the truth, and she falls a little bit in love with the way zayn’s whole face lights up, like she’s never had someone tell her that before.

—

“you _loooove_ her,” louis taunts.

liam kicks out half-heartedly. she doesn’t really expect to hit louis, since liam is on the sofa and louis is sprawled out on the floor, but it’s the thought that counts.

“i barely know her,” liam says, exasperated. “i couldn’t possibly love her.”

“tell that to harold.”

“you and harry are a very strange exception,” says liam.

it’s inevitable that they talk about harry — he’s one of the most important people in both of their lives, and try as they might to keep the conversation away from him, they’ve never been able to spend a night together without discussing him — but today, louis is determined to stay on topic.

unfortunately for liam, that topic is zayn malik.

“maybe you’re an exception too,” she says, grinning up at liam. “you never know, li. niall says she —”

“i know what niall says.”

“and?” louis raises herself up on her elbows.

“and... what?”

louis laughs. “do you think he’s right?”

yeah, she does. it might be conceited, but liam’s fairly certain that you don’t spend two hours patiently helping just-a-friend with their homework. she knows for a fact that harry would’ve kicked her out to do it himself after five minutes, and both niall and louis share the deadly combination of a short attention span and not really caring about school. of course, that could entirely mean that liam just needs new friends, and it might also be zayn’s ambition to teach, but.

“sort of?” liam makes a face. “i mean, i’m bad at the flirting thing, but i’m pretty sure she was?”

she’s not really surprised when louis just shrugs. louis might be the biggest flirt in the world, second to harry, but she’s never had to doubt whether or not someone liked her.

“just corner her the next time you see her and snog her senseless,” louis suggests.

“i can’t do that,” liam says, aghast.

“why not? it’s not like you’re a virgin. or — are you? what’s virginity in lesbianism, anyway?” without waiting for an answer, louis ploughs on. “and you can’t get pregnant without semen, which i’m, like, ninety percent sure zayn doesn’t have, so what’s stopping you from just, whatever, jumping her?”

“i’m liam, i don’t jump people. it’s just not in my wiring. you’re one to talk, anyway — all the mildly protected sex you have, _you’re_ going to wind up pregnant before graduation.”

louis goes a bit starry-eyed, which isn’t exactly the reaction liam was aiming for.

“curly-headed babies,” she sighs, and liam throws a cushion at her head.

—

zayn eats with them at lunch every day now, which has led to a few ridiculous rumours. she fits with liam’s small group of friends so easily that it’s like there was a spot carved for her, waiting. she’s quick-witted and mischievous and carefree and she loves things like art and music with her entire soul, and liam thinks that maybe louis isn’t so ridiculous to think she’s fallen in love so soon. falling in love with zayn would not be difficult at all — just that, falling.

that is, if liam lets herself. as idiotic as it might be to resist, she can’t help trying anyway. it’s been so long since she had real, honest feelings for anyone, and while she isn’t melodramatic enough to think danielle _ruined_ her, exactly, she definitely made liam cautious.

“party on saturday,” harry announces as he clambers onto the bench. “you coming?”

“i haven’t missed one since chicken pox,” liam says.

“you’ve been throwing parties that long?” zayn asks, sounding amused. liam breaks her sandwich in half, handing one of the pieces to zayn. she never has a lunch of her own, so she’s ended up sharing liam’s more often than not. 

“they used to be a lot more innocent,” says liam.

“i missed that phase,” niall adds. “i came in straight at the drinking and swapping spit.”

louis hesitates. harry notices immediately, of course, and frowns at her in his special blend of concern and disdain. “what’s up, sweetcheeks?”

“i don’t know if —” louis says, giving liam a panicked sort of look.

ah. liam clears her throat and, when that doesn’t get harry’s attention away from louis, she kicks him under the table. “this week might not be best, harry,” she says, pointedly. harry looks confused for a few seconds, and the realisation never comes. he just shakes his head, eyebrows all bunched up.

“i know lou’s schedule better than she does,” he says. “she doesn’t start ‘til next week.”

“do i?” louis asks, temporarily sidetracked.

“yeah, you do.” harry pulls out his phone and, after playing around with it, shows her the screen. sure enough, there’s a calendar with five days a month coloured in red.

zayn leans in close to whisper, “i don’t know if i should laugh or find it adorable,” in liam’s ear.

she stays there, resting her chin on liam’s shoulder, to watch harry and louis bicker over whether his calendar was ‘creepy’ or ‘helpful’, and liam avoids the knowing gaze niall is sending her way to do the same.

“was that the problem though?” harry eventually asks.

“no, er,” louis says, glancing at the three people staring at her. “i — i’m just, i don’t know, worried, i guess.”

“worried?” it’s almost funny, the way his voice cracks.

liam groans, resting her forehead against zayn’s hair for a brief moment. “really, lou?”

“what?” louis asks defensively.

“of all the things to actually _listen_ to me about, you pick this,” says liam. she kicks harry again — she doesn’t need to, it’s just fun. “i told her she was going to wind up pregnant before graduation, and now she’s trying to be responsible or something.”

“that’s not very nice, li,” niall says, sounding delighted.

“she was asking about lesbian virginity,” liam says. “i had to distract her with thoughts of babies before she asked for a demonstration.”

“ew,” says harry.

a french fry hits him in the face. niall looks entirely too innocent.

“that’s not it anyway,” louis says. she’s unconvincing, and she must know it — she’s the best drama kid liam knows — but she still juts her chin out stubbornly. louis is the type to argue with you about the colour of the sun just for the sake of it.

“you don’t have to be worried,” harry says. “and, you know, if you are, you can just come to the party anyway and i could see what actually goes on in my house for once.”

“really?” louis asks, a hint of a smile on her face.

“of course, jeez.” harry kisses her temple, so sweet that liam needs to swallow an ‘aww’. “i love you for things other than sex.”

“yeah,” niall butts in. “he’s been pining since year four — if anyone’s in this for sex, it’s lou.”

“shut up, niall,” they chorus.

shrugging, he does just that, digging into his lunch with renewed fervour. harry and louis have started talking in low voices and holding hands, and liam knows they’re lost to the world. liam doesn’t realise she’s just sitting there, smiling at them, until zayn nudges her.

“what’s this about lesbian virginity, then?” she asks, quiet enough that nobody can overhear. it’s _possible_ they’re respecting liam’s privacy and pretending not to listen, but liam doesn’t have that much faith in her friends.

“lou was puzzling out whether i counted as a virgin or not,” liam says. zayn hums, and liam wonders if that was too much information. she’s never exactly _hid_ her sexuality, but she doesn’t often say it aloud, either.

“i didn’t know you were a lesbian,” zayn says mildly.

definitely too much information. niall is watching them out of the corner of his eye like they’re performing a foreign mating ritual, which liam tries to ignore. she wants to shrug, but zayn is still on her shoulder, and she doesn’t want to displace her unnecessarily. she laughs, instead.

“well, i am.”

“and would you, as a lesbian, consider yourself a virgin?”

liam considers the question; a memory of danielle comes to mind, spread-eagle on her bed, thighs quivering as liam teased her entrance with her tongue and ignored the litany of curses mixed with ‘please, li, _god_ , just do it now’.

“i would most definitely not,” liam says, taking a bite out of her half of the sandwich to chase down the phantom taste of danielle.

“cool,” is all zayn says before she sits up straight again to eat liam’s lunch.

proud of herself for keeping a blush down, liam accidentally makes eye contact with niall, who waggles his eyebrows in a suggestive way.

she blushes anyway.

—

texting in class is not something liam likes to do. she never really gets anything unexpected, anyway — _dropped my sunglasses in the toilet again_ ; _noodls in canteen 2day ya dig_ ; _broke my wrist can you help me shave my legs/pits? I’d ask Haz but it’s kind of embarrassing!!_ — so it’s not really worth it.

when her phone buzzes in maths, though, she checks it in case it’s harry asking her to pick up cups for the party.

_family reunion this weekend, they’re letting me stay home. want to come over after the party?_

liam stares at her mobile, reading zayn’s text over and over like it will bring clarity to the situation. it doesn’t, so she puts dialogue tags around it, adds _WHAT DOES THIS MEAN??_ to the end, and forwards the text to harry.

she could’ve sent it to niall or louis, sure, but harry knows her better than they do. he won’t tease her for being socially inept, or make crude jokes, because he’s _harry_ and he hates when people sexualise liam. he once said it’s like dressing a puppy in lingerie, which led to niall questioning if she owned any. while she waits for his response, liam tries to pay attention to her teacher’s droning. macbeth is just — it’s not _interesting_ , is the thing, at least not the way ms johnson tells it.

it’s about ten minutes later when her phone buzzes again. she nearly drops it in her fumble to open harry’s text — _srry im in p.e. she’ll be drinkin sat SO it means she wants 2 fuck u pls neve rgive me details_.

liam hides her face in her hands. harry isn’t messing with her; that’s really what he believes it means.

before she can lose her nerve, she opens zayn’s text again and replies with a simple _sure sounds good_ , because even if harry is reading the situation wrong, sleepovers are still fun and not something liam’s had a lot of. with louis, sure, but other girls? well, they stopped asking her once she was old enough understand and advertise her sexuality. something about how she _must_ be interested in them.

except that zayn, zayn _knows_ , and she’s still asking her over. so if sex isn’t on the table, liam is content to know that at least she’s made a damn good friend.

_it’s too bad harry’ll actually be AT this one, we can’t skip it entirely_. liam grins at her phone, a bit stupidly.

—

“you look nice,” niall says, suspicious.

he usually doesn’t come with louis to pick liam up, so liam stares back at him while louis fixes her skirt for her. “what’re you doing here?”

“zayn’s picking the music tonight,” he says. “and harry thought lou might need backup in getting you there.”

“he wouldn’t tell us why,” says louis, a split second before she pinches liam’s mostly-exposed thigh. “but i haven’t seen you get dolled up like this since dani decided to experiment, so i can guess.”

“i’m not all dolled up.” liam raises a hand to her hair self-consciously.

“you sort of are,” louis says. “wear your hair curly more often and _i_ might sleep with you.”

“it does look good,” niall agrees, tugging at a lock of liam’s hair.

liam smiles at them and says it’s nothing special. which is a lie — she’d tried on over half her wardrobe in various combinations before deciding on the dress harry bought for her at his favourite hipster shop last christmas. she pulls away from her friends’ hands to open the hall closet and frown at the small army of shoes amassed there.

“go the leather boots,” niall says, peering over her shoulder. “the black ones, yeah? she’ll appreciate them, i think.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” liam says.

“shut up and put them on, li. we’ve a party to get to.”

—

even though a lot of things are different this saturday, harry’s party still has the routine liam is used to. walk in and immediately lose louis to harry’s hand around her wrist; not niall, but zayn, in the corner picking music and laughing with josh; stan trying unsuccessfully to chat gemma up for the gazillionth time since preschool. it’s always a bit freaky to walk in and realise how little changes. freaky, yet comforting.

“need me to wingman you?” niall asks.

“i think i’m good,” liam says, trying to hide behind her fringe — it doesn’t work, curls aren’t good for that sort of thing — when she sees the eyes on her. a couple blokes from school are blatantly checking her out, and liam isn’t sure if she should be flattered or what. “i’m going to just — talk to zayn.”

“you do that,” says niall, mid-glare. he squeezes her waist once to say ‘be careful’.

liam hasn’t missed one of harry’s parties in about seven years, but she’s stopped twice on her way to the stereo system by guys asking if she’s new in town. she laughs, a bit hysterically, and continues pushing through the crowd. she doesn’t really look all that different, she can’t, and she’s almost a little insulted. on a normal night she usually gets hit on once, when she’s dragging a half-conscious niall home and he can’t tell the difference between a bench and a large rock, let alone the identity of the girl under his arm.

when she reaches zayn and josh, she says, “hi,” a little too relieved than the situation calls for. luckily, neither of them notice.

“woah,” josh says.

“shut _up_ ,” liam groans, hugging her arms to her body. “if one more bloke tells me he’ll show me around and introduce me to all the ‘ace people’ in town, i’m going home and changing.”

“that’d be a shame,” zayn says. she pulls liam close by her elbow and kisses the side of her head.

josh hands liam his beer as a peace offering before disappearing, presumably to find niall. liam wants to squeak ‘please don’t leave me alone with her’, but she doesn’t want to hurt zayn’s feelings and, besides, he’s already gone by the time she finds her voice.

so, instead, she says, “i should get a tattoo on my forehead that says ‘likes girls’ in big, block letters. arial black, maybe.” zayn huffs a laugh into her hair, then inhales deeply. “are you — are you smelling me?”

“you’re all curly,” zayn says, like it’s an explanation.

“yes,” liam agrees.

“you smell like harry.”

“oh, yeah, i borrowed his conditioner. sorry.”

“don’t apologise.” zayn nuzzles into her neck, now, and liam wonders if zayn has gotten really drunk really early in the night, or if this is her way of coming on to liam. it’s just as indecipherable now as it was when they’d first met — liam wants to write ‘do you like me? check one: yes/no/maybe’ in zayn’s notebook when she isn’t looking.

“do you like me?” she blurts out, frustrated.

zayn raises her head and frowns at her. “of course i like you, liam.”

“no, i mean — do you, like, do you fancy me? because i, i fancy you, and i’m having trouble with the figuring out if you feel the same way... thing.” liam can’t even meet zayn’s eyes. she looks up at the ceiling, instead; there’s a small dent in it from the game of monopoly that went horribly wrong. (that was louis’ first experience with harry’s scary determination to win — well, second, after the whole ‘winning her heart’ thing.)

“really,” zayn deadpans. “you honestly — liam, i fancy the hell out of you.”

“you do?” liam looks at her again, smiling in spite of herself. zayn matches her smile with a brilliant one of her own and winds her hands behind liam’s neck.

she’s expecting the kiss, sure, but it still startles her a little when zayn’s lips press against her own. she kisses back, hard, twisting her fingers in the hem of zayn’s shirt and forgetting momentarily where they are. they pull back when they hear catcalls, grinning at each other.

“so, that text _was_ a booty call,” liam says, making a face at the way the words sound in her mouth. zayn laughs, full-bodied and beautiful.

“most definitely,” says zayn. her eyes are crinkled with soft amusement, and liam doesn’t even know how to deal with someone so gorgeous wanting her. it’s such a foreign concept to her that this feels like a very vivid dream. “i’ve never lost my lesbian virginity, though.”

she juts her tongue out between her teeth in a way that would look accidental to an onlooker, but liam knows is to show off the silver ball pierced in it. she stares at zayn’s mouth unabashedly.

“i can, you know,” liam says, actively trying not to ramble, “help you. with that.”

“yeah, i was hoping you’d say so,” zayn says before darting in to kiss her again, quickly. “you think harry’ll mind if we head out early?”

“nah, he’ll just act like we’re off to eat ice cream and watch girly movies,” liam says fondly. zayn gives her a mildly confused look, but she doesn’t feel like explaining that harry’s never been comfortable with liam and sex being in the same sphere of thought — she’s like a sister, it’s gross, he’d say as he stuffed his fingers in his ears and sang led zepplin loud enough to drown out niall’s queries about liam and danielle’s most recent ‘date’ — so she just keeps a hand fisted in zayn’s shirt to pull her to the front door. tomorrow she’ll have to deal with louis’ jokes and niall’s vague interest and harry’s false naivety, but right now she can press zayn against the outside of harry’s house and become acquainted with her tongue.

what a tongue it is, too.

—

liam still can’t concentrate in history. she watches zayn doodle a mess of curls that can only be harry, and zayn slides her foot up liam’s leg whenever she most needs to be paying attention, then whistles innocently when liam glowers at her. she doesn’t mind too much — she’d much rather study zayn malik than history, anyway.


End file.
